


Life Lessons

by someclarafication



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 23:56:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2087826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someclarafication/pseuds/someclarafication
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A rogue's gallery of some superheroes and their friends playing out a few of life's lessons.</p><p>Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, they all belong to their respective authors/comic books/movies/tv shows. I also don't own the 'life lessons'-those belong to H. Jackson Brown and his "Life's Little Instruction Book, Vols. I-III".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. #717: Remove Your Sunglasses When You Talk to People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Clint and Natasha demonstrate how to bicker like an old married couple...

"You're being rude," Natasha hisses as she sidles up next to him.

Clint rolls his eyes, comfortable with the fact that she won't be able to see the action behind his sunglasses. "Oh? How do you figure?"

"People are talking to you. Take off your sunglasses when they strike up conversation so they know you're paying attention to what they're saying."

"And what if I'm not?"

"Then you let them at least see that you're not so they can either change the subject or move on to somebody else worth their time and who'll appreciate their conversation."

"What's the point? People are stupid and generally don't know how to take a hint."

She scoffs. "Yeah, I know, I'm talking to one of them right now."

He rolls his eyes again. "Why does it even matter if I'm polite?"

"It  _matters_  because we could be here for a while, and it would attract more attention if we  _didn't_  try and make friends than if we  _did_. Okay?"

"Whatever."

"Don't 'whatever' me, Hawk, this is serious. Some of the neighbors are already pretty suspicious—apparently accountants around here don't have your kind of arm muscles."

"Well I can't exactly help it if I need to be keeping in shape for what I really do for a living. You should understand  _that_  at least."

"And that really doesn't matter when what you should be focusing on is  _keeping up appearances_  during an undercover op."

He doesn't say anything in reply, only raising his beer to his lips in slow motion, making a show of ignoring her. Out of the corner of his eye he catches the shift of her hand as she swipes his shades from his face with nimble fingers, tossing him a look and a smirk before sticking them in her hair and heading over to the food table. He clenches his jaw and downs the rest of his beer, spending the rest of the party mingling with the neighbors and shooting the occasional glare her way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed, and if you want to leave a comment go ahead and if you don't, then that's fine, too.
> 
> ~Clara


	2. #544: When You Get Really Angry Stick Your Hands In Your Pockets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Felicity deals with rumors floating around QC...

"Well you heard how she got the job, right?"

"I just assumed he wanted to keep his friends close."

"Please, since when has Oliver Queen ever been 'just friends' with a girl?"

The second girl shrugged in agreement, glancing over her friend's shoulder to the door of the break room. When she turned her eyes back to the coffee mug in her hand, her eyes widened and snapped up to the figure standing in the doorway. She flicked her gaze to her friend's, a wide, panicked expression on her face. The other girl spun around and swallowed uneasily. "Oh, uh, I, ah, hello Felicity."

The blonde IT-girl-turned-EA-under-questionable-circumstances merely arched a brow as she stepped into the room and towards the coffeepot. "I think that would be Ms. Smoak to  _you_ , Jennifer."

"I, ah, yes, right, of course. So sorry, Ms. Smoak."

"Hm."

The girls exchanged looks, apprehensive about just how much the woman might have heard. For all the obscurity surrounding her  _very_  sudden promotion, she did after all have the ear of Mr. Queen. And if the rumors were true, then she could probably… _advise_  him in such a way that he wouldn't be able to refuse. There hadn't been anybody they knew of to be let go yet for spreading the gossip, and it wasn't as though that was necessarily a legitimate reason for termination, but they were sure that a girl in Felicity Smoak's position could certainly make it happen some way or another.

Felicity glanced over at the girls, feeling more pissed off than she normally was when she knew people were whispering. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact she had actually  _heard_  the whispers this time (though they hadn't really been whispers) instead of just the hushed shushing before she walked into the room. She turned her focus back on the Keurig on the counter, urging it to brew the freakin' coffee faster, if only so she could get out of this room and escape from the awkward situation she had found herself in. Biting her lip, she busied herself with picking up a few different packets of sugar and choosing the label she actually wanted.

When her cup was finally full, she turned, intending to grab the Coffee-Mate from the fridge when she caught the end of a look passing between the two other girls. A look laden with judgment and silent continuation of their earlier conversation. Felicity clenched her jaw, her anger returned in full force and slammed the refrigerator door as she turned to pour the creamer in her coffee. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the other two jump, startled at the sudden sound in the otherwise quiet room. Feeling her irritation rise with each passing second, Felicity tore open the packet of sugar, dumped in her coffee, and shoved her hand in her coat pocket as she walked out of the room, her mug resting securely in her other hand.

Later, as she reached her desk and looked over to see Oliver and Digg settling themselves in, she set her cup down and glanced at the tightly clenched fist that she pulled from her pocket. Straightening her fingers, she examined the little half-moon indentations on her palm and sighed before heading over to give Oliver his schedule. And when he offered to put some fear of God into them, well, no one could really blame her when she actually seriously considered accepting for a moment.


	3. #608: Never Miss a Chance to Dance with Your Wife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve and Peggy have an alternate happy ending...

"No, Steve, I'm tired and my feet hurt, and I just want to go to bed."

He tugged her closer to him. "Oh c'mon, just one little dance." He threw her a winning grin. "And besides Peg, how many times do we get a quiet night just to ourselves? One dance and then I promise we'll go in."

She sighed and shook her head before stepping closer and leaning against his chest. They swayed together in time with the music of the night—the chirping of the crickets, the flitting of the fireflies, and the croaking of the frogs in the nearby pond.

"See, this isn't so bad, now is it?"

Peggy just sighed and shook her head, choosing not to reply. She let herself smile, though, and wonder just how it came to be that she got so lucky. After all, who might have guessed that Captain America was such a romantic?

Steve tightened his arms around her and smiled into her hair. He inhaled her scent of rosewater, an aroma that had always managed to seep into his blood and calm him down. They twirled slowly in a large circle, the moon smiling down on them as they danced together in the quiet of their backyard.


	4. #119: Put a Lot of Little Marshmallows in Your Hot Chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sara reconnects with her inner-child...

The kettle started whistling from its spot on the stove just as a certain blonde assassin plopped down on the couch in exhaustion. Rather than let her stand up again, though, Felicity jumped up and waved Sara back into her seat. "Don't worry, I'll get it."

The IT girl grabbed the kettle from the stove and poured the boiling water into the waiting mugs by her elbow. Clumps of powdered chocolate rose to the surface and Felicity stirred them slowly into the liquid. She poured a dash of milk into her own and carried the cups out to the coffee table, nudging aside Sara's crossed ankles before setting them down. The assassin stretched a hand towards her mug, snatching it back when Felicity reached out and smacked it. Sara shot her friend a 'what-the-hell' look and watched in silence as Felicity shook her head and returned to the kitchen. Sara could hear sounds of the IT girl rummaging around in the pantry and sighed, letting her body sink into the cushions and her eyes drift closed. Felicity walked back into the family room and dropped the family-sized bag of mini-marshmallows she had bought at the warehouse store last week onto the coffee table.

Sara opened an eye and then shut it again. "You know I don't do processed sugar, Felicity."

"'Life Lesson number 119: always put a lot of marshmallows in your hot chocolate,'" she replied. "Or at least, I think that's what it is. Either way, the message is clear; you need marshmallows in your hot chocolate in order to get the full experience." She shook the bag at her friend when Sara didn't move. "Preferably lots of them."

Sara couldn't stop the huff-chuckle that escaped her, and instead of replying she leaned forward, taking hold of the proffered bag and overturning it above her mug. She watched the little white marshmallows cascade into her cup and remembered the times when she was a kid and life was as simple as a pile of sugar in her hot chocolate. A part of her, the part that had remained untouched by the overwhelming darkness of the League, wished that she could take a trip on a time machine and just go back and tell her ten-year-old self to stay away from yachts and freighters and really, just boats and the ocean in general.

"Unfortunately, they have yet to perfect the art of time-traveling for anything  _other_  than television, so you might have to wait a couple years before you're able to do that." Felicity's voice broke through Sara's thoughts and the assassin tossed a questioning look at her friend. The other blonde shrugged before replying with, "you said that part out loud."

Sara sighed, nodding her head in an 'of-course-I-did' manner, just barely noticing when Felicity hauled herself off the couch and stepped over towards the cabinet where she kept all her movies. She watched as her friend ran a finger over the titles, nodding and humming as she read. Finally stopping her progress midway through, Felicity pulled a case from the stack and considered it for a few seconds before shaking her head and put it back. Smiling, Sara leaned her head back against the back of the couch and closed her eyes, letting the sounds of her friend and the warmth of her marshmallow-ed chocolate gently lull her to sleep.


	5. #27: Return All Things You Borrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Pepper lends Tony her favorite pen...

"Ms. Potts."

"Mr. Stark." The redhead turned with a sarcastic glint in her eye and a jaunty lift of her eyebrow.

"I need a pen."

"Okay."

"As in, I need it immediately." The billionaire continued rummaging through the piles of papers and folders littering his desk without looking up at his assistant.

"And you would like me to…?" She knew she was being difficult, but it was just  _so_ much fun to mess with him when he was like this.

"Well I would like you to find me a pen if you please." He finally shot a glare at her. "Or am I going to have to fire you for insubordination?"

Pepper scoffed at the idea. "Oh please, as if you could last even  _five minutes_ without me to show you how to drink a cup of coffee."

"I know how to drink a cup of coffee."

"It's an  _expression_ , Tony."

"Well it's a ridiculous one." He went back to sifting through the clutter on his desk. "Do you have a pen for me or not?"

"Am I going to get it back?"

"You getting it back from me requires that I have it in the first place, and since I'm not exactly seeing that  _happening_  anytime soon, I—" His eyes flicked between the pen she held out to him and the mocking expression on her face as she did so. "I will thank you." He plucked it out of her hand and nodded to her before walking away.

She watched him leave and shook her head in exasperation. "This man is going to be the death of me."

* * *

It got to the point where she started cursing herself for lending him that pen. Even if it was just a pen and she could buy herself sixteen more in the variety pack at Wal-Mart, the one she lent Tony was a good one. It was, actually, her favorite one. The ink very nearly glided onto the page with a mere touch of the pen to paper, and there was never any need to press down hard in one particular spot because it wasn't working. She knew, however, that unless she ventured downstairs to his lab/workshop area and retrieved the pen herself, she was better off just going to the store and buying a new pack.

* * *

About a week and a half after the pen incident, Pepper had forgotten all about it. She'd bought a twin pack of gel pens that also wrote well (even though they smeared almost every time she used them) and that got the job done. In fact, she had forgotten so completely about the whole thing that she didn't even know what Tony was talking about when he came to her and held it out to her.

"Your pen, Ms. Potts."

"My what?" She didn't look up from the tablet in her hands, where she was attempting to break his high score of Piano Tiles…while doing other, important, work-y things.

"Your pen. The one you asked me to give back to you."

"What are you talking about?" She shot him a confused glance (which made her miss a black tile and fall only two points short of beating him) before turning her full attention to him.

He sighed and waved the pen in her face. "This is the pen you leant me over a week ago. This is also the pen you said you wanted back. They say you should return all you borrow. So, I'm returning this to you. Do me a favor and keep up, won't you?"

Pepper's mouth fell open a little as she accepted the writing utensil. He shook his head and walked away, though not before she caught the beginnings of a smile on his mouth and the glint of amusement in his eye. So she let out a little huff of a chuckle and twirled the pen in her fingers before setting it on the counter and returning to her game, a crooked smile turning up the corners of her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should say, for my own sake, that the only interaction I've encountered between Tony and Pepper comes from The Avengers and the first half-hour of Iron Man (since that's the only part of Iron Man that I've actually seen...)
> 
> So basically, if the characters are at all OOC, that's why. And I'm sorry. And I did my best. All I ask is that if it's really really really bad or noticeable, you'll let me know so I can edit it...
> 
> Thanks,  
> Clara


	6. #16: Always Be The First Person To Say Hello

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Felicity deals with some old ghosts...that turn into very-much-corporeal beings...

One of the first things Felicity's father taught her was the importance of being polite.

"When you show other people that you know how to be polite," he'd say, "then you show them that you are a person that can do well in the world. You can convince them to give you a chance. And trust me honey, a single chance is high praise from some folks."

"Always be the first to say hello. Especially when no one else is talking and things are looking tense. It'll break the ice and make you memorable to the people around you that were making things awkward. They'll come up to you after and thank you for making things easier. Guarantee you it'll work like a dream. Trust me, baby, your old man knows what he's talking about."

And he did. For a while Felicity even listened to him and followed his advice. Of course, eventually she ended up taking it a bit too far (she started rambling at a young age), but her happy personality usually made it difficult for people to get too upset or frustrated. And it even worked for a while…until she got to middle school and high school, where it seemed that everything she babbled had a double meaning (usually dirty) that she didn't understand until afterwards when her friends took her aside to explain how what she said could have been taken to mean. And even though her Freudian slips usually got a laugh out of people, more often than not they ended up making an awkward situation just  _that_  much more awkward and forcing people to shoot her pained looks that always translated to 'dear-God-Felicity-please-shut-up-now.'

But she always kept that piece of advice with her. No matter where she went, or who she ran into, or whatever situation she found herself in, she made a point to try and say hello first. A lot of times she even managed to get through a whole conversation without rambling. And other times she couldn't even get out the first syllable and someone was already talking to or at her. She never really got the first word in with Oliver, come to think of it, although she  _did_ more often than not get the  _last_  word in. So she supposed that sort of balanced things out.

"Thinking of Oliver…" Felicity leaned up on her toes to look over the crowd at Starbucks, searching for her ex-billionaire boss-more-than-a-friend among the morning-coffee regulars. "Where  _is_  he?"

She checked her watch, rolling her eyes at his chronic lateness before plopping back down into her seat. She let her eyes roam over the room, just people-watching, letting her eyes drift between her watch and the clock on the wall above the napkin bar. She frowned when she noticed the time—Oliver may be always late, but he was never  _this_  late. Felicity looked behind her at the door when she caught sudden movement from the corner of her eye and heard the sound of a chair being scraped across the floor. Smiling in relief, Felicity turned to tease him about keeping her waiting. She froze with her mouth open though, at the sight of a pair of very different, very alert, and yet very familiar blue eyes.

Her breath caught in her throat, holding back her heart which had somehow leapt up there to join it. He was taller, she noticed with some other part of her brain that was still functioning, unlike the part that had apparently gotten together with her breath and heart and decided to stop working. And his hair had more grey in it than she remembered, which was a silly thing to be surprised about because  _of course_ his hair would have more grey in it, it had been nearly ten years since she had last seen him and people age in ten years so yeah, he's going to have some grey hairs.  _'Well I see this is having zero effect on my internal rambling mechanism.'_  There were more wrinkles on his face, too, understandable, of course, but again, noticeable.

"What happened to all those manners I taught you, baby? You oughta be the first to say hello in a conversation."

"Yeah well I ah, I don't really remember you um, telling me what to do when I come face to face with a man I haven't seen in over twenty years." Ah, there's her brain and heart and breath.

"Baby, I—"

"You…what?" Her eyes remained equally incredulous and blank bordering on furious while the corner of her mouth lifted in a sarcastic half-smirk. "You want to apologize? You want to reconnect? What, Dad? What do you want?"

He swallowed and nodded his head. "Look, baby I get that you don't want to see me and you have every right to be angry and hurt—"

"Hey, Dad, why don't you stop telling me things that I already  _know_ , and trying telling me something I  _don't_? Okay?"

"I heard you're getting married."

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "From where?"

"Does it matter?" He raised his eyebrows hopefully. "Either way, I, I know that I have no right to ask this—"

"No."

"Baby, just let me fin—"

"I said  _no_." Felicity's blue eyes blazed in anger and pain. "How can you even think that I would say yes? How can you even think that I would, that I would  _ever_  accept you back into my life?" She huffed a chuckle ripe with bitterness and shook her head before turning her gaze back to him. "You  _left_  us. You didn't look back. You  _lost_  every right you ever had to being in my life when  _you_  left. Because that's what you did. You left us, you left  _me_ , after ten years of happiness and you  _never_  looked back and now, twenty years later, you expect me to welcome you back into my life with open arms? Absolutely not. Get out of my face, get out of my life, and if you  _ever_  try to contact me again I swear to  _God_  that you will regret it."

She stood, disgust and fury and two decades-worth of hurt written all over her face. He reached out, grabbing hold of her wrist. "Felicity, wait, please—"

"No! Let  _go_  of me!" She yanked her wrist from his grasp and whipped it back before turning and walking away.

"Felicity!"

She ignored him, the same way he had ignored her oh-so-long ago.

" _Felicity!"_

She shook her head, trying to get away…

" _Felicity, wake up!"_

She opened her eyes with a gasp, sitting up in bed, her chest heaving. She turned to see Oliver next to her, smoothing a hand over the back of her head, concern filling his gaze. The moon shone through the open window, giving light to the early-morning/late-night darkness that surrounded them. Felicity swallowed before wrapping her arms around his torso, squeezing tightly, as though she needed to reassure herself that he was still there. He rested his chin on top of her head, rubbing his hand over her back and wrapping her in his warmth.

"It's okay, whatever it was, it was just a dream, Felicity, I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere, I'm right here, it's okay. It's okay…"

He held her close through the night, ignoring the wetness of her tears as they fell onto his skin.

* * *

Footsteps pounded on the foundry steps, drawing Felicity from her absentminded thoughts while she fiddled with the still-new ring on her left hand.

"Should I be worried that I keep finding you playing with that?" Oliver's voice held a teasing tone, though the slight concern in his eyes belied it.

She grinned up at him, pulling him down for a light kiss. "Absolutely not. I just can't get over that we actually made it to this point, you know?"

He smiled back, his worry gone, and leaned down to press a firmer, longer kiss to her lips. "Well, all the credit goes to you. I may never have realized what I was missing if you hadn't showed me those college-day videos of you when you were drunk." He waggled his eyebrows.

Felicity swatted at his arm, trying to ignore the blush that was creeping up her neck. "You totally shouldn't have taken me up on that offer, you know how I get when I drink tequila."

"And resist the temptation to see you in all—" He ducked and danced away, grinning as she attempted to whack him with her wireless keyboard.

She stuck her tongue out at him when he laughed and turned back to her computers, shaking her head at his silliness. He'd been doing that, she noticed. Teasing her more easily and smiling more readily. She supposed it had something to do with the fact that the city was cleaning up, there weren't any Big Bad Villains going after them, and just possibly, that she and Oliver had finally caved and let themselves fall in love with each other the proper way. In any case, he was lighter these days and she liked it. She liked it a lot, in fact. A ding from the right monitor distracted her and she rolled over to look at the results of the side search she'd had going on.

"Who's that?"

Felicity started, her hand over her heart as she shot a glare at her fiance. "What happened to not sneaking up on me and risking my premature death by a sneak-attack-induced heart attack?"

Oliver smirked. "Cute." He nodded towards the face on the computer screen. "Who's he? New bad guy?"

She swallowed. "Not…exactly."

He raised an eyebrow before grabbing his stool and pulling it next to her chair. He sat, facing her with an expression conveying his willingness to wait all night for an explanation, if need be.

"It's…this is my dad."

He blinked a few times before taking a closer look at the man. "Ian Smoak." Oliver's eyes ran over the information beneath the picture. "This says he lives in Coast City."

"Yeah, it does." Felicity stared at the picture, a lump in her throat keeping her from speaking.

"There's a phone number there."

"Yes, there is."

Oliver looked at her, noticing the tightening of her jaw. "Are you going to use it?"

"I…I don't know." She looked up at him, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. "Do you think I should?"

"I think you should do whatever you feel is right."

She groaned, a smile almost reaching her lips. "Of  _course_  you would say that."

He lifted an eyebrow. "Was I supposed to say something else?"

"You were supposed to tell me what to do, Oliver," she replied with a twinge of a whine.

He chuckled before pressing a kiss to her temple. "You have to decide whether you're ready to forgive him yet. Because if you are, then maybe you'll feel better and stop worrying that very nice, very expensive ring I gave you." He pulled away and dropped a kiss to her lips as he got up to change out of his leathers. He shot her a look laden with meaning as he walked away.

Felicity sighed before turning back to the screen, her hand resting lightly on the phone nearby. She leaned back in her chair and cocked her head to the side, thinking. She barely noticed when Digg and Roy came downstairs, their arms full of dinner from Big Belly, or how Oliver shook his head when they went to deliver her food. She ran her memories through her mind, of how her dad helped her build her first computer, how he showed her how to use it, how he gave her pointers on hacking and leaving no trace behind. Of how he would push her on the swings at that park a couple blocks down from the house, of how she would sneak down to the kitchen and watch as he twirled her mom to soft music coming from the radio, of how he would ruffle her hair with that big grin on his face.

She sighed again, her heart pounding in her chest and her stomach turning as she picked up her phone and dialed the number on the screen. As it rang, she could feel everything building up in her chest, all the anxiety and insecurity and anger and pain and  _oh my God what am I even doing this is such a bad idea I can't—_

"Ian Smoak."

And there it was. And there  _he_  was. His voice sounded just the same, albeit his tone was a bit more rushed, a bit more impatient, but it was his. It was her dad. After all these years…

"Is there anyone there? Hello?"

Felicity felt Oliver grab hold of her hand and squeeze it, hard. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She heard her dad sigh impatiently and knew he was about to— "Don't hang up."

"Excuse me?"

"Please, don't hang up. I'm here."

"Who is this?"

Felicity looked at Oliver and at Digg and Roy behind him, and saw the three of them giving her encouraging smiles. "Since when are you not the first person to say hello?"

"I'm sorry, what? Who is this?"

"It's me, Dad. It's me. It's..."

"Felicity?"

She breathed out a laugh, tears spilling over her eyelids. "Yeah, it's me, Felicity." She prayed to God her voice didn't crack.

"My…Felicity?"

She smiled, tears running down her cheeks as she nodded, though she knew he couldn't see her. "Hi, Dad."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the semi-angstiness of it, I didn't really mean for it to be quite so heavy. Also, I wrote this before Season 3 started, so, it's got nods to those spoilers that had come out mid-July about the city being in a good spot and Olicity having their date...
> 
> Anywho, hope you liked it :)
> 
> Happy New Year,  
> Clara


	7. #1097: Play Catch With A Kid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve takes a stroll down memory lane, and walks into a baseball game...

"Hey Mister, look out!"

Steve turned to see a fly-away baseball soaring towards his head. On instinct, he raised his hand to catch it, ignoring the brief sting of leather against skin when it made contact. He looked up to see a gaggle of kids staring up at him in wonder, and he grinned at them while tossing the ball from hand to hand. "I think this belongs to you, huh?"

A dark-haired boy with a bat in his hand nodded numbly. Steve crouched down to reach his level and held the ball out to him. "What's your name, kid?"

"Anthony. But most people call me Lil' Tony."

"Oh yeah? Why's that?"

"'Cause my brother's  _Big_ Tony."

"Ah," Steve nodded a few times, "that makes sense. Did your brother teach you how to hit like that?"

Lil' Tony nodded vigorously, a grin growing on his face. "Uh-huh. And he showed me how to run and steal home. You wanna see, Mister?"

Steve smiled at the boy. "Of course. You want me to stay here and watch or you want me to pitch it to you?"

The kid tilted his head, considering Steve for a moment. "You ever play ball before?"

"A couple times when I was a kid, my buddies and I would play on the street, just like you're doing now."

"Hmm, you any good at it?"

"Not so much--I had a lot of trouble breathing when I was your age, so I didn't get to play as much with the other kids as I wanted to."

Lil' Tony shook his head. "Then maybe you oughta watch Joey here throw me a couple pitches, just so you can remember what it's all about. Then maybe we'll see if we can't get you a glove or something."

Steve bit back a grin at the seriousness in the boy's words and manner. "Well all right, then, coach. I'll just sit right here and watch you guys for a little bit, then."

The boys nodded and spread out along the street and the sidewalks, with Lil' Tony taking up position behind home base. Steve lowered himself to a nearby porch stoop and watched as the kids hollered and egged and cheered each other on. Leaning farther back, he could almost imagine that he was on a different street in a different state, where the cars were more novel and less numerous, where the only smells in the air were of summer and the distant rivers, where instead of Lil' Tony and his friends out on the streets, it was Steve and Bucky and the other neighborhood kids. Where he was home, and he was safe, and he was loved and not alone.

But then there were small hands pushing and pulling at him, dragging him out into the street and dropping a brownish-white baseball in his hands, and Steve was grinning as he pitched the ball and then watched it soar over his head as the kids chased after it. And all of a sudden, he didn't need to imagine anything, because right there on that street with those kids, he felt right at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed, and sorry this is so late :/
> 
> ~Clara


	8. #1425: When Pouring Something from One Container to Another, Do It Over the Sink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Oliver finds out his IT-girl-turned-EA has been keeping caffeinated secrets...

_"Crap!"_

Oliver started, his head popping up at the voice coming from the private executive kitchenette off the side of the hallway. He stood to investigate, frowning in concern as he moved towards the room. "Felicity?"

"Yeah?"

"Everything okay?" He called out as he turned the corner, his worry morphing into surprise and then amusement as he beheld the sight before him.

Felicity shouted a "yeah, yeah, sure, everything's fine" in reply, her back to the door. To herself, she kept cursing under her breath as she flitted about the small space, rushing to clean up a mess of dark-brown grains that smelled distinctly like coffee.

Oliver leaned against the doorjamb, pursing his lips in dawning understanding as he watched her. "Felicity, why are you cleaning up coffee grounds if our coffee _maker_  is broken? Violently, broken, even?"

She rose slowly to her feet, turning to face him with a slightly guilty expression...that immediately melted when she saw his poorly-hidden amusement. She threw her hands on her hips and replied with a scoff. "Just because I'm not bringing  _you_  coffee doesn't mean I'm not going to bring myself any either. You don't get any solidarity from me on that front, Mr. Queen."

He nodded, his eyes light and the corner of his mouth tilted up in a half-smile. "I see." He motioned towards the counter. "You want help cleaning that up?"

"No I can do it. There really isn't any room in here for two people. Especially when one of them's you, so." She winced and backtracked. "I meant, I mean, that totally wasn't like a, mean-spirited, 'you-can't-sit-here' type of, I just meant that, I mean, you're so  _big_ , that I just don't know how you'd fit with me."

He lifted an eyebrow in response.

"And that also, sounded like," she sighed in defeat with her eyes closed, "you know what, three, two, one. Yes, Oliver, if you have the time and don't mind, I'd love for you to help me. I mean, not  _love_ love, just love as in-"

"Felicity." She immediately pursed her lips, drawing her fingers across them in a zipping motion and twisting the 'key' at the corner of her mouth. He smiled more fully, and gently pushed past her to wet some more paper towels. They worked in silence for a few seconds before Oliver piped up in curiosity. "So, what exactly happened here?"

"Mm, yeah, well, I usually bring in this huge canister of coffee from my house and transfer some of it to a smaller one," she nodded towards the containers in question, shoved against the back of the counter and covered in coffee-ground-dust, "during my lunch break or when there's a lull. But, today, we didn't really have any lulls, and there wasn't really time for a lunch break, and I mean, I wasn't necessarily trying to  _hide_  it from you, but at the same time I was trying to get it done before you noticed I wasn't at my desk because I didn't want you to get curious and stuff and come looking for me and find the coffeemaker and realize what I've been doing and-"

"So, you spilled it?"

"Yeah. Yes. Yes I did." She stared mournfully at the brown paper towels in the trash and the significantly smaller amount of coffee in the big can. "I probably should have tried pouring it over the sink so that if I spilled it would have been easier to clean up, but..."

He watched as she pouted slightly, deflating a bit over the lost coffee, and he smiled again. "I have heard that's generally a good idea."

She rolled her eyes and shoved at his shoulder playfully, a smirk playing around the corners of her mouth. "Whatever, Oliver."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, I suppose if you went out and bought another canister, I could find a way to get the CEO to expense it."

Her smile grew, but she bit her lip in an attempt to tone it down. "Hmm, sounds like a good offer, but I mean, things wouldn't have had to come to this in the first place if a certain CEO hadn't-"

"All right, all right." Oliver chuckled, eager to cut her off from her current favorite rant. "Fine. Buy as many as you need to keep this place stocked, and I  _promise_  I'll expense it."

"Well, I suppose-"

"On one condition."

"Oliver!"

"What?"

She fought to keep herself from grinning like a fool, but it ultimately failed as she took in the teasing glint in his eye. "I thought this was supposed to be your way of making things up to me?"

"It is. But I mean, I  _am_  a businessman, Felicity. And businessmen don't make deals without making sure they get something in return." He smirked at her. "Or at least, that's what I've been told." He shrugged his shoulders and winked at her.

She shook her head, biting her bottom lip to hold in her laughter. "Whatever, Oliver, just, c'mon, what do you want?"

"Hmm..." He stroked his chin, still playing despite the myriad of things racing through his head at the simple question. He wanted to get coffee with her in an actual cafe, just the two of them. He wanted to be this lighthearted with her everyday, all day. He wanted to bite that bottom lip for her, and find out if she tasted as good as he'd dreamt. He wanted...so much. "I want to be allowed access to this coffee."

"Okay, that's easy enough."

"And when I say access, Felicity, I mean that I want to be able to brew a cup of coffee for myself and drink it myself." He lifted an eyebrow and held out his hand for her to shake.

Grinning wide, she reached out and took it, her bright aqua-colored nails a stark contrast against his tan skin, and his hand enveloping hers in a warmth she felt down to her toes. "Mr. Queen, you've got yourself a deal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day, woohoo! Maybe I felt guilty about leaving this one just stewing for so long...
> 
> Either way, hope you liked it :)
> 
> ~Clara


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